Exit Music
by ulstergirl
Summary: When he's been gone for too long, Veronica does the only thing she can to keep her sanity. AU future fic, DV.


**If you haven't read "Gone" and "A Strict Radiohead Diet," this might be a bit confusing. It's set about four or five years after the events of those stories.**

**Rating for medium sexual situations and just a bit of profanity.**

* * *

"Miss Mars?"

Veronica was tapping on the steering wheel, her head back against the rest, her eyes closed against the sun. When the voice came to her, distorted by the electronic distance, she sighed and pressed the button on the intercom. "Yes?"

"He'll see you now."

The wrought iron gate rolled back. From behind the bulletproof glass of the security booth, a solemn man in black nodded at her as she passed. He looked too familiar. Maybe he was a case her father had handled, or an extra in the only non-cartoon movie she had seen in the last year.

He had a personal assistant now. An agent, a manager, a personal masseuse, a fleet of similar security officers, everything his father's money could buy and more. A palatial mansion at the edge of the ocean, an hour away from Neptune. Veronica smoothed her palm over her hair, then brushed it over her knee-length black skirt, frowning at the smudges of flour and fingerprints, as she stepped into the gleaming hallway, cool and dim and quiet in the heat. A woman approached, the owner of the silky voice she'd heard over the intercom; chestnut hair tumbled down her back, and despite the black square-rimmed glasses, the miles of tanned legs ending in high-heeled pumps left Veronica in no doubt as to why he'd hired her. In the right light, she even looked uncomfortably like Kendall.

The assistant's heels clicked down the hallway, her hand swinging against the curve of her hips, as Veronica followed quietly in flats. He had a framed promotional poster of himself in the short-lived reality series he'd left during their freshman year of college to pursue, hanging there; from there he'd co-starred in a few indie flicks, but nothing stuck. Nothing did stick to him.

She hadn't seen him since that night, when she, purple shadows against her cheeks, exhausted from studying and working after class, had opened her door to him and listened to him ramble with scotch strong on his breath about how this was a great opportunity and he had been lost for so long and this, this could give him meaning. The next morning he was gone and with every day that passed he had grown a little more distant to her, until she had been left only with chilly silence and the ultimately humiliating prospect of handing her business card over to a willowy ash blonde and expressing her deep, heartfelt and completely irrelevant wish that the secretary would pass it on as soon as possible.

The brunette swept open the door and motioned Veronica in, and she paused for a second on the threshold, taking a deep breath before she arranged her features into something approaching a smile and walked inside.

"Logan."

He smiled, and she couldn't afford to be here, in his presence. She couldn't afford to be taking this time off from her job; she needed every hour she could get, especially during the summer, when all the other waitresses were asking time off to spend a few extra hours at the beach with their boyfriends, and she was there to take up the slack, to wait a few more tables, while her feet ached and her smile grew a little more tired with each reflexive iteration.

Distantly she heard the brunette close the door behind her as she left, and they were alone.

"Veronica Mars."

He had that same sarcastic smile but his eyes were guarded, and he was digging the point of a letter opener under his skin-short nails. He looked like a little boy who had snuck into his father's office and was going through the drawers, pretending he knew what he was doing, sitting in a chair two sizes too big for him, holding his heels up off the floor as he spun. This house was far too big for him, but the parties he held here were legendary, tabloid material, scenes of unrivaled debauchery, breakdowns and overdoses and sirens in the middle of the night, but no police reports after. Money could buy that kind of pained silence. Money on the night of another party meant that her rape would never be public record.

Logan snapped his feet onto the floor and leaned forward on his elbows. "Where's the little man, then?"

"Home. I guess it was just so convenient for you to pencil me in for the middle of a workday."

"It's so hard to remember, for those of us who do our best to never work a day." The letter opener flashed between his hands. "You're here for something."

Veronica measured off her steps until she was standing with her palms barely brushing the prematurely distressed surface of his nearly untouched desk, then shrugged and dropped into the oxblood-leather armchair facing him.

"I came to do you a favor."

Logan laughed and the letter opener clattered to the blotter. "You. A favor for me? To what do I owe this entirely unexpected honor? Did you manage to rob a bank or possibly star in some amateur porn video?"

"That's the only kind of favor I could ever do for you? And... why would any porn video I'd be in necessarily be amateur?" Veronica tilted her head, her eyebrows drawn together.

Logan rested his forearms on the blotter and leaned forward. "Given your... limited... experience..." He waved his hand in the air. "Anyway. I have some numbered accounts in the Caymans, you can leave your... favor... there."

Veronica crossed her legs. "I hear you have another movie coming out in a few months."

"I may. If I can line up a distributor." He gave a sudden mock gasp. "That's it, isn't it? You've come to me in my hour of need..."

She ignored him. "And it's been a while since you've been in the tabloids."

"Two months, but who's counting. And Veronica, darling, all you have to do is call and I'll make sure Tanya gives you an up to the minute update on my life. You don't have to read those rags just to see my smiling face."

She waited until he stopped looking everywhere but directly at her. The sun slanted through the blinds, traced thin stripes over his shoulder, and his eyebrows had drawn together in that wounded, defensive look, his muddy hazel eyes finally meeting hers.

"I think we should get married."

--

The light was still burning above their apartment door when Veronica made her way, slowly, up the stairs. Her father was just stretching himself awake on the couch when she locked the door behind her.

"He wouldn't go to bed until you came home."

Veronica swept her son up into her arms, smiling as he nestled into her shoulder. "Hey Hunter," she whispered. "You ready to go to bed?"

"Mommy home," he whispered. "Mommy sleep?"

"Yeah, Mommy sleep," she said, brushing his hair from his forehead. She smiled at her father as he tossed the afghan over the back of the couch and flipped off the porch light, heading for bed.

"Good day, honey?"

She shrugged. "Well, they still say I'm not ready to work the pole full-time..."

"Just what I like to hear." Keith kissed Veronica's forehead, then tousled Hunter's hair. "Good night."

"Good night."

Hunter's small bed was in the corner of her room, but she couldn't quite bring herself to put him down there. She curled up with him in her bed, her palm resting over his back, her head pillowed in her elbow, gazing down at his closed eyes as they faced each other.

Logan had agreed. They'd even shaken hands on it. Then she'd managed to force herself to go back to work for six hours, keeping it in, feeling like she was going to explode.

She slipped her fingers over her son's smooth hair, brushing it from his face. "We're going on a little trip," she whispered to him, through her wide grin.

Half the town already thought that the reason she hadn't married Logan Echolls and moved into the mansion with him was his wild lifestyle, that she didn't want to raise his son in that environment, that she was just waiting for Logan to settle down before she introduced Hunter to all the privileges that being the grandson of a movie star would entail. The other half simply didn't care.

But she didn't need any of that. She just needed a week as Mrs. Logan Echolls, the tabloid coverage, the island honeymoon. He'd get another claw at the spotlight, she'd have an all-expenses-paid cruise to the resort, and a week later they'd get a quickie annulment and she'd go back to waiting tables for twelve hours a day.

Hunter moved in his sleep and Veronica lifted him into her arms to carry him to his bed, and his eyes opened, the same deep beautiful blue as her own.

"Sleep, baby," she whispered, pulling the blanket over him. "Soon you'll see your daddy."

* * *

"I don't know why I'm doing this." 

"Because even Lex Luthor has his kryptonite."

Logan was slumped at the other end of the limo, deep in the leather seat, still wearing shades, studying his hands. Hunter was in a booster seat in front of them, engrossed in the cartoon on the DVD player. Veronica was in a smart green suit, her hair straight and smooth, her gaze steady. Logan didn't know that her feet weren't touching the ground, couldn't touch the ground. Not today. He'd flipped over a black AmEx and told her to look the part when she showed up a week later. She'd snarked back something about how Mrs. Logan Echolls would probably wear a lot of fur and silk and little else, and he'd agreed. But she'd fitted out her wardrobe in elegant light linen slacks and tasteful silk shells and a few brilliant cocktail dresses and an enormous platinum and sapphire dinner ring he'd barely even noticed.

"You're mixing metaphors, dear."

"And you're mixing too many drinks." She reached over and snatched his sunglasses off, and his eyes were bloodshot and slitted underneath. "Don't worry. I'm not here to reform you."

"Just for the cuddling, then."

She tossed the sunglasses on the seat between them and crossed her arms. "I'm doing this as a favor for my father. It's a job. You're a plausible excuse for me to be there."

He sighed, draping his arm over his eyes dramatically. "Yes, you bored me with this the first time. I'm doing you a huge favor, blah blah, the publicity... you know, if I wanted this kind of publicity, I would have looked up the Olsen twins."

"The Olsen twins don't have..."

She shrugged lightly in Hunter's direction, and Logan's gaze drifted there reluctantly. She never introduced Hunter as Logan's son, and Hunter didn't call Logan father. If Hunter would ever know anyone as a male role model in his life, for as long as Veronica could help it, that man would be Keith Mars.

"Wake me up when we get to the nude beach," Logan muttered, closing his eyes again.

While Logan and Hunter napped, Veronica looked down at her hands. Logan wasn't wearing a matching band on his left hand; he'd said it wasn't important. She was wearing something garish, something appropriate, because a tattoo would be too permanent and a cheap gold band too halfhearted. No, this wedding band was silver and gold with diamond chips, and a size too big, because even money couldn't make up for the fact that when she talked, she wasn't at all sure he heard anything. Although he had been very attentive when she'd sighed and admitted that, yes, they would have to share a stateroom, because there would be too many questions otherwise. But it would have to be a very large stateroom. With multiple beds and bedrooms.

By the time the limo pulled up at the pier, Logan was beaming, radiating goodwill, his arm over her shoulders. She hefted Hunter up on her hip and the three of them squinted into the sun, as the flashbulbs went off and Logan's entourage trailed behind, following them all the way to the deck.

"See you in a week, pet."

They all had that same smirk on their faces, all thinking that Veronica had managed to run a paternity test, shanghai him into marriage, but they all knew it wouldn't last. Even so, Veronica pulled Logan to her for a very long and passionate kiss, for the cameras alone, and when they pulled apart that look was in his eyes again. The look that had been in his eyes when he'd said they were epic, and she'd come to him the next morning full of hope and found him with Kendall.

Kryptonite.

She smoothed a hand over Logan's hair in an overly familiar gesture, then waved to the crowd at the edge of the pier with measured and sarcastic abandon, noting the carefully disinterested tourists with the cameras hanging around their necks, the sole suit barely disguised in a bright floral shirt and wide cargo shorts, his eyes lingering just a little too long on the two of them. Nearly four years later and they still hadn't quite given up on her. Two years ago, there would have been five very visible agents trailing her, and six more in disguise. She smiled to herself. "See you all in a week!"

"Vultures," Logan muttered, slipping his shades back on. Veronica let Hunter slide down to stand on his own feet, and when Logan offered him a hand, she watched the two of them walk together, her stomach tight, wary.

Sensing her eyes on him, he said just loud enough for her to hear, "Don't worry. I do still remember how to do a few things right."

--

Logan had booked them a suite, champagne and jacuzzi, the whole nine yards. The white satin duvet was covered in red rose petals, and Veronica swept one up into her palm, wondering if that came standard or if he'd called to have it done special. He tipped the bellhop silently, then shoved the door with the palm of his hand and let it swing back into the jamb.

"So. We should make a honeymoon video."

Veronica was bent over the bag of Hunter's clothes and toys, looking for the spare bottle of juice he was whining for. She swept her hair back out of her face long enough to give Logan an icy glare, which he neatly avoided receiving by flipping on the television. "Oh. You mean with the 'nanny' you hired?"

"I thought you wouldn't want to corrupt the little guy early."

Veronica handed the cup of juice to her son, then headed over to Logan. "It would be fine with me," she said, fighting to keep her voice even, "if you made a video with the nanny. In fact, while I'm with Hunter, if you could call the entire domestic staff up here for a mini orgy, that would be great. Just don't forget to get it on tape for after we get back."

"I take it all back. Not amateur porn... soft-core, maybe."

His sunglasses were already off. She grabbed the remote and stabbed the power button, and he met her hard stare and returned it, his jaw set, defiant. She tossed the remote on the couch next to him.

"If this is hard for you."

"Not at all. What gave you that idea."

He shoved off the couch and slammed the bathroom door behind him, and she sighed and looked at Hunter, whose blue eyes were wide as he stared back at her.

--

"Nice dress."

"Glad you like it, after how much you paid for it."

The waiter pulled back Veronica's chair and she smiled as she settled into it, at the waiter and at Logan, slumped in his elegant suit at the opposite end of the table. They had agreed to share one public romantic dinner, in the restaurant at the hotel, and she had dressed the part, in a shimmering smoke-grey dress that left her back bare, clung to her curves and fell loose to her ankles. Logan still didn't look quite right in his tux, and to her, probably never would.

"If you don't put a little more effort into this, I won't go see any more of your movies."

Something lit in his eyes, at that, but he didn't rise to the bait. "It'd be easier if you weren't acting angry at me all the time."

"It's not like you're the most dependable person I've ever met. Maybe I'm just hoping that you'll surprise me by not letting me down."

"You didn't have to ask me to do this."

"No, I didn't," she sighed, draping her napkin over her lap. "It just seemed easier, with Hunter and everything..."

"Why'd you bring him, anyway? This is supposed to be a honeymoon."

Veronica took a sip of her water to cover the sudden color in her cheeks, thankful for the dim candlelight that cast their faces into graded shadow. "He's part of the con."

Logan sat back. "So you'd use your own son to get to a mark," he chuckled, lacing his fingers to cradle the back of his head, his elbows bent and spread wide. "Maybe we aren't so different, after all."

"Plus I thought that maybe you still had feelings for me," she said, propping her chin on her hand.

"How could I," Logan muttered. "You're still in love with him."

"You didn't answer my question."

The waiter came just then, to take their orders, and Logan's relief was palpable.

After their dinner Veronica excused herself and Logan headed for the front desk, his collar unbuttoned, tie loose at his throat, and began their scripted conversation with the clerk. Veronica smiled into her champagne, then headed out onto the patio, where a few couples lingered over their bananas foster and last cups of overpriced coffee in the candlelight.

The breeze off the water cut right through her dress, as she maneuvered between the tables, slipping out of her shoes, the sand cool beneath her feet. Logan was making an order for the most expensive call girls he could find; tonight she would sleep in the other suite, the one meant for the "nanny," and then tomorrow she would officially go AWOL, after a huge explosive scene. She was almost looking forward to it. Their marriage was one witness's signature short of legal, and she was one drink away from forgetting the nervous tension humming under her skin.

She made her way back into the hotel slowly, pressed the elevator button with the knuckle of her index finger, her shoes still dangling from her other hand, her hair trailing over her collarbone. Logan answered her knock too quickly, and she smelled scotch on his breath again, his shirt was already mostly unbuttoned and it was just like old times.

"I'll need to be alone, dear."

Veronica kissed her fingertips and pressed them lightly against his mouth. "Have a great wedding night."

--

Five minutes before the chambermaid was supposed to show, Veronica snatched the do-not-disturb from the doorknob and waited with her eye at the peephole. The maid approached, and Veronica smiled.

"Beach soon?"

She had already slathered Hunter with a coat of sunscreen and dressed him in a miniature polo shirt and khaki swim trunks, another gift from Logan's bottomless bank account, and the sun was already glowing against the curtains. "Beach soon," she agreed. "I'll be right back. Can you watch cartoons for another five minutes?"

Later she remembered the floor was spread in those same red rose petals, so many that for a second she almost thought someone had died on the carpet. Bronzed girls, all long legs and long arms and fake breasts, were spread in every imaginable state of undress around the room. Logan had even managed to dig up a few B-list actors, who groaned at Veronica's first outraged shriek.

Logan stirred under the blanket, the girls started clutching for their clothes, the maid was outraged, and the photographer she'd tipped off anonymously an hour before was there to immortalize her slipping the ring from her finger and flinging it at Logan in outrage. He flinched back, his mouth open and his brows drawn together, mute at the force of her screams.

She demanded for the bellhop to come up personally and help her move, because she was leaving the hotel. When Logan protested, she turned an icy glare on him until he stammered into silence, holding a throw pillow against his naked waist.

"I can't believe you would do this," she said, her voice hard and rising, and the tableau froze, and the rage she'd felt when she'd seen Kendall standing there that morning rose between her ribs again, thick and hot. "I trusted you, I believed you, I thought you had changed, I thought there was a future for us--"

She glanced over, sucking in a breath for another series of epithets, and saw Hunter standing in the doorway of their abandoned room, one palm planted on the door to keep it open, his eyes wide and shining as they took in her flushed face.

"Don't you ever come near me again," she managed, her cheeks hot and wet, and she swept Hunter up into her arms before he started to cry.

At the front desk they agreed to check her into another hotel, while the flashbulbs caught her wiping her wet cheeks with ringless fingers, in silhouette, her hair falling into her face and her son on her hip. She explained in a hushed voice that she needed some time, she didn't want her husband-- her soon-to-be ex-husband-- to be able to find her until she was ready, and the woman nodded knowingly, and then the two of them were in a limo on the way to an insanely exclusive resort, all thanks to the black AmEx clenched in her fist.

"Mommy?"

Hunter had lost his hat somewhere, but the limo had come with a booster seat already inside. Veronica reached over and wrapped her fingers around his smaller hand.

"It's okay, we're still going to the beach. We just need to find another place to stay first."

His mouth was open, perfect pink lips against his pale white cheek. "Why were you mad?"

She looked down. "I wasn't mad," she said. "I wasn't mad at you. Sometimes grown ups get mad at each other, you know about that."

Hunter looked uncertain, but he nodded anyway. "Okay."

Their new room was beautiful and isolated, and on the way up Veronica identified all the security precautions made for someone as rich as she so briefly was pretending to be. "This will be fine," she assured them, and they bowed out, leaving her with her arms folded, gazing down at the white beach and palm trees, until Hunter's lower lip finally stopped trembling.

"You ready to build a sand castle?"

--

Hunter had practically grown up on the beach, but he stayed out anyway, until he was sprawled across her knees, slumbering as the sun sank below the horizon. She glanced at her watch. Today had been an introspection day, and she covered the smiles she wasn't supposed to have on her face with a sudden hand clasped over her mouth in an imaginary sob.

Even though she tried to budget her time wisely, six o'clock the next night found her on a patio, the white tablecloth fluttering against her knees as she watched Hunter inspect another handful of french fries. The waiter brought her check, and she saw the penciled star in the lower right-hand corner, then grabbed his sleeve.

"Is there a bathroom inside?"

At his nod she stood, smoothing the white sundress over the flat of her hips, and lifted Hunter into her arms. She bypassed the bathroom for the kitchen, which she walked through without a single glance in either direction, although Hunter was enthralled by the flurry of action around them. The man standing at the back door handed her a black scarf and a keycard.

"202."

She nodded, tying the scarf around her waist, pulling out the elastic and letting her hair fall loose around her face.

The hotel was a block away. Halfway there, she took her shoes off, and when the building was in sight, low sloped roofs and off-white stucco, she couldn't stop herself from breaking into a run, couldn't stop the laughter bubbling up in her throat.

"Mommy!"

"It's okay," she told Hunter, holding him tight to her as she ran. "It's okay, we're almost there..."

Room 202 was quiet, so quiet, the drapes pulled close, dim and cool, and she let the door fall shut behind her, her feet still bare. Two double beds, a television set, a minibar and a bathroom door. She let Hunter slide down her leg until he stood at her side with his hand in hers, and the first tear fell down her cheek, her lips parted, breathing in the stillness. He had been here.

Then the bathroom door opened, and the little girl came through first, her blonde hair swept back off her face, her blue eyes wide. Veronica's heart was in her throat when the darkness resolved into another figure, whose hand was resting on the little girl's hair.

"Veronica."

The sob choked against the tears rising in her throat, and she said his name in a gasp just louder than breath.

"Duncan."

* * *

"I missed you." 

"I missed you too."

Hunter and Lilly were in the other bed, nearly asleep, a pillow resting between them. Even though she had introduced Duncan to Hunter as a friend, she hadn't been able to stop touching him, even if it was so simple as her fingers laced through his while they pretended to watch television. Now Veronica and Duncan lay nose to nose, facing each other on the pillows, speaking only in whispers that just carried to each other's ears.

She rested her palm on his cheek, and he kissed it softly. "You shaved."

He chuckled. "How did you know?"

She traced her thumb over his skin. "Your cheeks are pale," she murmured, her eyelashes fluttering as he kissed the point of her wrist. "How much longer?"

"I don't know."

"She's so big, Duncan..."

"He's so big," Duncan replied, rolling onto his back so he could gaze over at his son. "They're growing so fast. I can't believe... I can't..."

Veronica forced a smile. "He is," she whispered. "He's perfect. And every time I look into his face, I see you."

He turned back to her. "You found the trust fund, right?"

She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. "He'll be able to go wherever he wants, when the time comes," she whispered. "He'll be free."

Duncan wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. "I wish to God every night that I could find a way back to you," he whispered. "I've missed so much of his life already..."

"You're here now, though," she whispered, and her face crumpled. "I've missed you so much, every single day, Duncan... and it's been so hard..."

He nodded, his breath against her cheek. "I have too," he said softly, punctuating every word with another soft brush of his lips over her skin. "Can you keep doing this? For as long as it takes to make sure that Lilly's safe, for the rest of her life..."

"Even if I have to cry myself to sleep every night."

Duncan sighed, pulling her closer. "Don't say that."

She rested her forehead against his. "Just promise me," she whispered, gasping in another breath, her lips resting just before his. "Just promise me that one day you will come back, for good... because if you tell me that, I think I can do it. As long as one day this will all be over."

He nodded, and his eyes were gleaming. "I will find my way back to you," he whispered. "To both of you. This... this is not how it was supposed to be, not at all, baby..."

She traced her fingers over his cheek. "It wasn't," she smiled. "But you're here now."

He turned out the lamp between the beds. She pushed herself up on her elbow and gazed at their children, watching for a movement, the gleam of open eyes, but found none. The television flickered blue over their skin and Hunter turned in his sleep, facing the wall instead of his parents, and she let herself fall gently back down to the bed, Duncan's fingers curled underneath the strap of her dress as they slipped under the covers.

They made love, slow and quiet, her fingers digging into his shoulder blades as he knelt over her, skin to skin. Duncan froze when Lilly made a soft noise in her sleep, Veronica's ankles linked at the small of his back, her eyes gleaming as they searched his. When he finally relaxed again, laughing silently, he rested his forehead against hers, her fingers in his hair.

"Now."

They were twined together so tight, drawing each breath in another desperate gasp, and when they came she groaned into his shoulder, her teeth wet against his skin, his fingers buried in her hair as he sighed into the pillow.

"I love you."

She was trembling when he kissed her, sighing when his hips shifted. "I love you," she whispered against his mouth.

He pulled the sheets all the way up, over their bare shoulders, and she closed her eyes and nestled against his chest, his arms warm around her and their legs tangled together.

"I missed this most of all."

She kissed his collarbone, smiling. Their skin was damp where it met, in the warm nest of the sheets. "The cuddling?"

He kissed her forehead, her temple, her earlobe, then whispered just against her ear, his breath making her shiver, "What comes before the cuddling."

She traced her fingernails gently down his spine. "Me too."

He reached over for the remote, and when they were in the dark, quiet but for the sound of the air conditioner, she mumbled against his chest, "We have to stop meeting like this. I feel like your hooker."

He smiled. "I have a surprise for you."

--

Veronica had to be back in her suite in the morning, before anyone noticed she was gone. Duncan kissed her awake at three o'clock, and even though they were both more than willing to turn it into an encore performance, she dressed hastily and lifted Hunter into her arms. Duncan rested his palm over his son's hair, and Veronica could see his eyes gleaming before he kissed her goodbye.

"How will I know?"

"You'll know."

In the king-sized bed, with the sunlight spilling through the curtains and onto her son's hair, Veronica watched Hunter sleep. The maid came in, apologized, and backed out again, and Hunter's eyes snapped open, and he giggled.

"Were you just playing?"

"Yes," he laughed, shrieking when she tickled him. "No tickling! No!"

"Yes tickling," she returned, and soon they were rolling over on the bed, laughing until they were breathless, until her stomach ached and tears were standing in her eyes. She pressed a kiss against the crown of his head and pulled back to look at him, and the curve of his cheek, the shape of his eyes, were Duncan's.

"Are we going to play with Lilly today?"

_Lilly._ Veronica brushed her hair out of her face, drawing in a long breath. The name, the name was hers, and she had been gone for so long. Lilly would have spoiled Hunter. She would have made sure that the two of them were invited to every family function just so she could see the look on her mother's face, at the sight of Veronica with Duncan's son in her arms. But no one other than her father _knew_, really _knew_ who Hunter's father was, and if anyone else found out, the feds wouldn't stop with twelve agents and snipers. Duncan would never have been able to come so close. As much as she sometimes wished she could have the tests done and throw Hunter's paternity in Celeste's frozen face, his grandparents' money would have served only to buy her silence, and the thought of it left a bitter taste in Veronica's mouth.

_If Lilly were here._ Sometimes she knew she would never stop thinking those words.

"Yeah, baby, we're going to play with Lilly today, and my friend."

Hunter smiled. "Now?"

"Soon."

When the car came, after lunch, the driver asked for her by her unmarried name, and she accepted it all as though she had ordered it herself. At the private beach, Duncan and Lilly were waiting, his white shirt fluttering in the wind, Lilly's hair long and trailing down her back as she stood with her hand in that of the only father she had ever known.

"It's safe?"

He laughed when she flung herself into his arms. "It's safe," he said, and kissed her forehead. "You'd be surprised."

She shook her head. "I've stopped being surprised," she whispered into his shoulder. "This is a miracle."

The four of them built an enormous sandcastle, which Hunter and Lilly decimated, laughing the whole time. They were almost the same size, their blue eyes almost the same shade. After Lilly begged to go out into the water, Duncan and Veronica led them in, standing with the two in the shallows, the water sucking at their feet as Hunter and Lilly shrieked and splashed at each other.

"He's okay, isn't he."

Veronica traced her fingertips over Duncan's cheek. "He's not showing any signs," she murmured. "The doctor says he's perfectly healthy."

"There's an early-warning test they can do--"

She smiled, looking down. "Yeah, and if I ask to have my son tested for Type IV epilepsy, like no one's going to connect any dots."

Duncan shook his head and slipped his arm around her shoulders, and she felt Hunter tugging at her hand, urging her out to sea. "This won't last forever."

"How can't it," she whispered. "Nothing's changed."

When Lilly and Hunter began to tire, although tired for Hunter meant four cups of espresso for Veronica, Duncan took them back to the yacht. When Veronica raised her eyebrows at him, taken aback by the sheer size of it, and Hunter's mouth stood open, he replied, "Of _course_ there's a yacht."

"You almost have me convinced that you're a Bond villain."

He laughed, and when both the children were looking away he ducked his head to hers, pressed his mouth to her neck in a soft kiss, his breath warm against her skin. "Not quite."

Astrid was waiting for them on the desk, her hair blowing in the wind, and Veronica watched her expression carefully when she turned her pleased smile toward Duncan, noting with some relief that it didn't change. Lilly, however, was already bouncing with excitement, when she saw Astrid.

"This is my new friend!"

"Hi," Astrid said, kneeling down to bring herself to Hunter's eye level. "You must belong to my friend Veronica."

Hunter nodded, hiding himself partially behind Veronica's leg, staring at Astrid with wide blue eyes. Lilly laughed and tugged on his hand.

"You can come see my room!"

When the two had vanished around a corner, Astrid rose to her feet again, dusting her palms on her knees, and hugged Veronica. "He's so beautiful."

Veronica laughed. "He is," she agreed, and whispered, "I can't believe we did this."

They pulled apart and Duncan laced his fingers through Veronica's, and Astrid watched the two of them for a second before she turned away, a knowing smile on her face.

"I'll make sure they don't get into too much trouble. Go." She shooed them off before she followed their children around the corner.

--

When Duncan woke, Veronica was stretched out on her stomach, facing him, her fingers tucked into the valley between their pillows. He brushed her hair out of her face but she didn't wake, only moved a little and made a soft noise, even as his fingers traced over her temple.

They had made love wordlessly as the rectangle of sunlight moved over them. She had knelt over him, the tips of her hair brushing his parted lips, and when she had groaned the first time, her eyes sown shut, her mouth falling open, he had dug his fingers into her hips and held her to him hard.

He wanted to wake up to this. He wanted to wake up to Veronica beside him, with Hunter crawling into their bed and demanding pancakes, and Lilly with her lake-blue eyes watching cartoons and begging them to take her swimming again.

Veronica hadn't touched the trust fund. She'd taken her scholarship to Hurst, and the money had just grown, and in the sporadic messages, the only ones they could afford to send, she only talked about the future and their son, never about her life, never about what she did between class and sleep. He couldn't help wondering, when Lilly was asleep in his arms and he was debating which name he'd use next, how she spent the unbearable stretch of the days they spent apart.

He moved close to her, his fingers sliding over her shoulder, bending his face to hers, and pressed his lips against her earlobe. "Stay with me," he breathed, and his heart was so hard in his chest, and she moved.

"Duncan," she whispered, looping her arm over him and pulling him close to her. "Don't wanna wake up."

"Okay," he murmured, stroking her hair, and her eyes popped open suddenly.

"Oh God," she whispered. "You're real."

He nodded, chuckling, and when she fell back in surprise, he was on top of her, resting his weight on his forearms, the tip of his nose against hers. "I'm real."

Between their kisses, the sweet taste of her mouth, he whispered, "Why didn't you take the money and go to Stanford? You know there was enough."

She smiled and kissed him again. "I needed to be somewhere safe," she replied. "I needed to be close to Hunter, and my dad because he helps out so much with him... you should see them. Even when my dad has had the worst day ever, Hunter can always make him laugh."

"I will see them," Duncan promised, his mouth pressed against her collarbone as he traced his hands down her sides, over the curve of her knees as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

"I believe you," she whispered, her eyes clear when they met his. "I have to believe you."

He slipped his fingers into her hair, smiling when her eyes fluttered shut, her lips parting. "I'll be with you again," he whispered against her mouth. "I swear I will."

--

After an exquisite dinner that the children picked over before settling on hot dogs, the four of them settled on the couch, and Lilly snuggled up next to Veronica. "Want me to do your hair?"

Veronica glanced over at Duncan, who was smiling, before she looked down into Lilly's eager face. "Do you want me to do _your_ hair?"

Lilly climbed into Veronica's lap without waiting for further invitation, and Veronica slipped the elastics out carefully, combing the girl's hair with her fingers. Hunter sat beside Duncan, and seeing them so close, the resemblance was unmistakable. Duncan glanced down at Hunter for a long moment, then leaned down to his son's eye level.

"I have a surprise for you."

Hunter glanced back at Veronica, even though he was beginning to smile. "Sure," she said, laughing as Hunter clapped his hands, and Duncan vanished, holding up one finger in the air, gesturing for them to wait.

Lilly pouted in Veronica's lap. "Did Daddy get me a present too?"

Veronica leaned down until her cheek was pressed against Lilly's, and the little girl giggled. "I don't know," Veronica said, holding Lilly's hair back from her face. "Have you seen this movie before? Can you tell me about it?"

Veronica listened to Lilly's spirited explanation, gently dividing her hair for a French braid, when Duncan came back in. Hunter took in the bat and glove with rounded eyes.

"I thought you might need these," Veronica heard Duncan say, his thumb sliding down the curve of the bat. "My mom and dad... they didn't let me play baseball, when I was little. Do you ever play baseball?"

Hunter shook his head. "Grandpa says we'll play catch first."

Duncan nodded. "He's a smart man. And one day I'll play catch with you, but until then, you practice with Grandpa, okay?"

Hunter nodded, laughing as Duncan helped him slide the huge glove onto his tiny hand. "Wow."

"Because you can do it all, Hunter. Anything you want, anything you dream..." Duncan ruffled Hunter's hair.

"So I can stay up all night?"

Veronica chuckled. "Not hardly. You get to go to bed on time."

"Mom," Hunter groaned, and Duncan laughed.

Even so, the four of them stayed awake, all sprawled across Duncan's king-sized bed, watching a cartoon, until the kids fell asleep. Hunter had the baseball glove pressed under his cheek when he sighed in his sleep, and Duncan leaned down and kissed his son on the crown of his head.

"It's tomorrow."

Veronica sighed. "Don't say it again," she whispered. "I know. I don't want to think about it."

Duncan stood and slipped his arms under Hunter, tucking the mitt against his chest as he cradled his son close to him. "Bring Lilly."

After they settled Hunter on the couch in Lilly's room, Veronica looked around at the pink and white walls, the dolls with their white painted faces, the framed pictures. Meg in a pink plastic frame decorated with a fairy princess. A picture from ages ago, Lilly smirking into the camera and Veronica's hair so long that it fell nearly to her elbows, hanging back, smiling, their arms wrapped around each other's waists. Lilly's namesake turned in her sleep, toward the butterfly nightlight beside her bed, and Veronica smiled and brushed her hair back from her face.

"I don't think I can say goodbye to you again."

Back in his room, Duncan joined her in the bed, his eyes gleaming in the dark. "I know," he whispered, and pulled her close, his chin against the crown of her head. "I thought I knew how bad it would be, when I took Lilly... but it was a thousand times worse. Before... it killed me, I had to stay away from you, but I could still see you. And now..."

"I can't even see you," she finished, slowly, her lips brushing against his chest. "I can't talk to you. I can only wait until it's safe to email you, and even that... it's never enough. It'll never be enough. I want you with me. I want you to be around and see Hunter grow up."

He sighed and kissed the tip of her nose. "I do too," he whispered. "I wish you could be here to see Lilly..."

Veronica smiled and ran her fingers through his hair. "I'm here now," she whispered.

_You could be here forever,_ he thought, his lips brushing her cheek. _You're the only thing keeping me here. We could leave here tomorrow and forget all of this and I wouldn't have to worry anymore, I could find a hole and pull it in behind me, because you and Hunter are all I need._

"Yeah," he whispered, pulling her tight against him, until he could feel her breathe. "You're here now. Where you belong."

--

In the end, neither of them could say goodbye. She just kept holding him, while Hunter and Lilly stared into each other's blue eyes, and Duncan held her, a hand stroking over her hair, and they didn't talk, didn't lie and say it would all be okay again.

"Don't wait this long until next time."

"I won't," he whispered into her hair. "I promise."

When she pushed herself back, her face was red and her blue eyes were gleaming with tears. She took a long shuddering breath and stared down at their feet. "It's worth it," she said faintly. "Tell me again that it's worth it."

"Lilly not locked in a closet in her parents' attic."

She nodded, and sighed. "It's worth it," she murmured. "For that. But, Duncan... she needs a real life too. Not a suitcase of Barbie dolls and a new home every time one of us gets skittish."

Duncan nodded. "We almost have it figured out," he said softly. He leaned close, until his lips brushed the point of her jaw. "If we're lucky, the next time I see you..."

She forced a smile. "Don't lie to me," she whispered.

He pulled her up into his arms, until their noses were brushing. "I will do everything I possibly can to come back to you. You know that. Lilly needs a real life, and Hunter needs a father."

She smiled and kissed him hard, her wet lashes brushing his cheek. "I love you," she whispered against his mouth. "I've always loved you."

"I love you," he replied. "I always will."

She held his gaze until he was out of sight, the water was up to her knees and she kept staring at the horizon until it hurt her eyes, and even then, until she ached with sobs, and Hunter turned in her arms.

"Mommy," he said, and touched her cheek.

"Hey baby."

"Don't be sad," he said softly.

_My heart is breaking_. She couldn't stop watching, even though she knew he wouldn't come back, he couldn't come back, but if she just had one more second, one more kiss...

"Mommy..."

She lifted him in her arms, until he was studying her eyes, and kissed his forehead. "Okay," she whispered. "Okay, I'm going to try very very hard not to be sad. And we're going to go get you some ice cream because you have been a great boy today."

"Are we going to see Lilly tomorrow?"

At the edge of the water Veronica sank to her knees, Hunter still cradled in her arms. "She had to go," she managed. "I don't know when we're going to see Lilly again."

--

She dreamed of him. In their lonely suite, while Hunter slept beside her, she dreamed that she opened her eyes to see Duncan standing over her, smiling down at her.

"Stay with me," she whispered, and he nodded, his fingers tracing over her cheek.

She woke with her heart in her throat, and Hunter was curled up with the mitt hugged to his chest, and she ran silently in bare feet, her face pale, but didn't collapse until she was at the edge of the black water with the stars cold over her head.

_I can't do this, I can't, not again, I can't... He's gone._

"Miss Mars."

The sand was cold against her knees and she buried her face in her hands.

"Miss Mars, where is he?"

She looked over at the dark figure, the same tourist she had spotted on the ship, and her voice clogged with tears, she cried, "I've lost my husband, you asshole."

"Where did he go?"

"Try the hotel," she muttered, climbing back to her feet, brushing sand from her knees. "Try the strip clubs."

"We know he was here."

Her head was pounding. "Of course he was here. He still is. This is our damn honeymoon."

"Where is Duncan Kane?"

She stopped in her tracks and turned slowly, her eyes infinitely sad. "Duncan Kane broke up with me years ago," she said slowly. "I have no idea where he is. I did everything I could to help then, and I'm telling you now. I don't know where he is. Now leave us alone."

In the shower, in the dark, she cried until she couldn't cry anymore, her face against her knees, chanting his name under her breath, while their son slept in the next room. "I don't want to be alone anymore," she whispered. "I don't want to do this alone anymore."

_You're not alone, as long as he's with you._

She set her mouth and dried off in the moonlight, scrubbing the towel over her face until the tears were all caught in the white fibers. She dressed on autopilot, looking down at her pale ringless fingers, swelled and wrinkled from the length of her shower.

She climbed back into bed and pulled Hunter against her chest and kissed the crown of his head. "I love you," she whispered against his hair. "I love you so much, baby."

He made a soft noise in his sleep and she willed the lump in her throat to shrink away to nothing.

* * *

Logan stood in the doorway of her bedroom, slumping against the frame, studying his feet. "Are you all right," he muttered. 

Veronica had been steeling herself, but she waited until he met her eyes to reply. "I'll be okay."

"You sure?"

She had been crying for the last two days, and they were back on the cruise ship and an hour from San Diego, an hour from announcing to the press that their whirlwind courtship had been a mistake and discovering their marriage had never been legitimate. Hunter was on the floor, playing with his mitt and a ball Veronica had bought him, fascinated, and she sat with her legs crossed on the floor near him, her hair hanging in her face.

"Yeah."

Logan crouched down, still doing his best to avoid her eyes. "I brought you with me so you could see Duncan. Didn't I." His voice was so low that she could barely hear the words.

It was her turn to look away, at the stiff leather of Hunter's glove, the red stitching on the bright white of the ball. "Duncan and I broke up years ago," she repeated, quietly, with no conviction in her voice.

Logan nodded, once, shortly, and stood. Before he left he turned back to her.

"Was it worth it?"

Veronica pulled her gaze from Hunter to meet Logan's. "Yes," she murmured. "It was."

An hour later the tears were gone and Hunter was on her hip and she and Logan were ducking through the riot of flashbulbs at the pier, sliding into the back of the waiting limo.

"I hope it was as good for you as it was for me," Logan murmured, when she was almost convinced he was asleep and they were just rounding the corner to squeeze into the parking lot at her apartment complex.

"It was better," she returned, and was rewarded by the slight slackening of his expression. "Thank you. You didn't have to do this. And..."

"Yeah?"

Veronica pulled her purse onto her shoulder, already scanning the inside of the limo for any of Hunter's scattered toys or juice boxes. "If you're ever... around here, and I know how distasteful you find that idea... if you ever find yourself around here and want to drop by..."

Logan smiled at his window. "I know where you are."

She nodded. "Yeah. You know where we are."

--

In the back of her closet, under a stack of dusty old shoes and cracked sneakers, she found the black-bound photo album, the one she hadn't looked at in ages.

"Come here, baby," Veronica said, and Hunter looked up as he rolled the ball across the living room floor, back to his grandfather.

"Okay."

With Hunter settled in her lap, Veronica rested the album against her son's legs and flipped it open, drawing in a swift breath at the first shot, the three almost-blurry figures, the colors all so incredibly bright.

"This is me," Veronica said. "This... is your Aunt Lilly. She died before you were born, but she would have loved you. She was my best friend."

Hunter nodded. "Like my friend Lilly?"

"Just like your friend Lilly," Veronica whispered. Then she touched the third figure.

"And this... is your father."


End file.
